


Saving Time

by OldEmeraldEye



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Irish Mythology, Oisin i Tir Na nOg, The 100 (TV)
Genre: I needed magic, alt explaination for the Grounders, because one line of defense doesn't really make sense when it comes to the end of the world, pre pretty much everything in the 100, the Shadowmen showed up, they're pretty good at it, we're studying the story in Irish and I get bored easily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldEmeraldEye/pseuds/OldEmeraldEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tir na nOg is a time capsule, created far back in the mists of time when the end of the entire race was much more of a possibility.<br/>No one dies there, no one grows old, and there is no illness there, because it exists only in the imagination. When there are no people left to imagine, they are cast adrift to repopulate the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving Time

 

Once upon an age, before time was measured, there were the shaddow men. They were great shamans, and they chained a girl and a demon and put the demon inside the girl so they had defence against the demons, but this is not the story of the Slayer.

They created the Slayer, and she fought, but the demons were many upon the face of the Earth and the people were few. And some among them said – what if the girl was not enough?

And so they thought many days and nights and they searched the sacred places and cast lots and there was dissent among them.

And the youngest of them, the one whose name is not spoken, forged an alliance between those of them that were of a mind with him, and they set in place a countermesure for the posibility of compleate human anialaation.

They labored day and night, tearing the fabric of reality and stitching it to the minds of men, and they created a land adrift from time swiftly populated by the lost and damned. It amounted to the same, in the end, because as the ages roll on, none die, none grow sick and none grow old, and they multiply, becoming myths, legends, tales told around fires, then to children, and finally to no one at all, because there is no one left to tell.

And then, after all ages and no time at all, Death plys his trade among them once again, and age sows her seeds. There is illness, and pain, and their home is gone and they are left scattered among the refuse of a broken planet to repopulate the world.

And they die.

By themselves, in twos and tens and dozens, they die.

  
But, more importantly, they live.

And life goes on.


End file.
